Chapter 6 - THE GRAVE WITH NO BODY
Gabriel pulled them into the chapel one at a time.
The building stood half a mile from the mansion, hidden among pines and old family graves. Wind pushed through shattered stained-glass windows. The altar had been stripped of candles, and rainwater glistened on the stone floor.
Elias kept his weapon aimed at Gabriel.
Clara barely noticed.
She could not look away from the silver ring.
“Where is he?” she asked.
Gabriel closed his fist around it.
“First we get away from the estate.”
“Where is my father?”
“Alive the last time I saw him.”
“When?”
“Eleven days ago.”
Clara struck him.
The sound cracked through the chapel.
Gabriel’s head turned with the blow.
Nobody moved.
Clara stared at her own hand.
She had never hit anyone before.
Gabriel slowly faced her again.
“You deserved that,” she whispered.
“Probably.”
“You let me believe he was dead.”
“I kept you alive.”
“You knew where I lived.”
“So did Sloane.”
Her anger faltered.
Gabriel returned the ring.
“Thomas surrendered himself after the shooting. Sloane’s men had discovered your address and your mother’s rehabilitation center.”
Clara’s fingers closed around the silver.
“He traded himself for us?”
“He gave them the ledger key and promised to decode the records.”
“But the key was hidden in the clock.”
“He gave them a false one.”
Elias lowered his pistol by an inch.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because three of your guards were working for Rusk, Dr. Marino was reporting your medication schedule, and someone had wired your office.”
“You knew about the microphone?”
“I suspected it.”
“You searched Clara because you thought Thomas had contacted her.”
“Yes.”
“And instead of speaking to me, you used her as bait.”
Gabriel looked ashamed for the first time.
“I believed whoever watched the house would expose himself if Thomas’s daughter entered.”
“He did,” Dominic said.
Everyone turned.
The wounded accountant leaned against Margaret, his skin gray.
“Rusk sent me.”
Gabriel reached for his gun.
Dominic raised one hand.
“I didn’t know he planned to attack tonight. He told me to retrieve the Chelsea file.”
“And you obeyed?” Elias asked.
“He has my son.”
The chapel became quiet.
Dominic struggled to remain standing.
“My boy is nine. Rusk took him six weeks ago.”
“Why not come to me?” Elias asked.
“Because I thought you were broken.”
The words struck brutally.
Gabriel stepped forward, but Elias stopped him.
“Let him finish.”
Dominic looked at the wheelchair.
“I heard the stories. That you fired everyone. Stopped meetings. Let Gabriel run the estate.”
“Gabriel never ran my estate.”
“From outside, it looked like he did.”
Elias’s face hardened.
Clara understood what Dominic was saying.
Elias’s insistence on privacy had not merely isolated him from employees. It had isolated him from information. Every person afraid to enter his office became one more person forced to speak through Gabriel.
The rule had protected Elias’s dignity.
It had also built his prison.
“Where is Rusk holding Thomas?” Clara asked.
Gabriel looked toward Dominic.
The wounded man shook his head. “Not with my son.”
“Where?”
“Thomas was kept at Saint Jude until last month. Then Rusk moved him.”
“To where?” Elias asked.
“A ship.”
“What ship?”
“The Mercy Ann.”
Clara stared at the photograph.
Her father stood beside a fishing boat with that exact name.
“I thought the Mercy Ann was his,” she said.
“It belonged to Sloane,” Gabriel replied. “He used it to move weapons and cash. Thomas maintained the engine.”
“Where is it now?”
“Dry dock near New Bedford.”
Dominic coughed violently. Blood stained his lips.
Margaret lowered him onto a pew.
“He won’t survive without treatment.”
Gabriel removed his phone.
“No signal.”
“There’s an emergency radio in the crypt,” Margaret said.
Elias looked at her.
“Anything else beneath my family chapel?”
“A wine cellar.”
“Of course.”
“I’ll contact the Coast Guard,” Gabriel said.
“No police,” Dominic insisted. “Rusk has people in the department.”
“Then who do we call?” Clara asked.
Elias looked toward the dark sea beyond the broken windows.
“Someone who owes me.”
He gave Gabriel a number from memory.
Gabriel used the crypt radio.
A man answered on the third attempt.
“This is Captain Walsh.”
“Tell him Elias Moretti needs passage,” Elias said.
Gabriel repeated the message.
The captain cursed loudly enough for everyone to hear.
“Where?”
“Eastern cove.”
“How many?”
“Five.”
“Ten minutes.”
The line went dead.
Margaret examined Dominic’s wound.
“He cannot walk that far.”
“I’ll stay,” Gabriel said.
Elias laughed coldly.
“And surrender yourself to Rusk?”
“I’ll hold them here.”
“No.”
Gabriel looked at him.
Elias continued.
“You have made enough decisions without consulting me.”
“This is not about authority.”
“It is always about authority when a man with a gun decides he alone knows what everyone else should be told.”
Gabriel absorbed the accusation.
Then nodded.
“You’re right.”
The admission surprised Elias more than resistance would have.
They found an old wooden handcart in the crypt and placed Dominic inside. Gabriel and Margaret pulled it through the cemetery while Clara pushed Elias over the uneven path.
The ground was terrible for the wheelchair.
Twice, the front wheels sank into mud.
Each time Elias tried to force them free himself.
Each time Clara waited.
She did not grab him without warning.
She did not panic.
She simply said, “Can I help?”
The first time, he answered no.
The second time, after the chair nearly tipped, he closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
One word.
Quiet.
Difficult.
Clara lifted the front frame while Elias pushed the wheels. Together they freed the chair.
“Thank you,” he said, almost angrily.
“You’re welcome.”
Gunfire erupted behind them.
Bullets struck the gravestones.
Gabriel returned fire.
“Move!”
They rushed toward the cliffs.
Captain Walsh’s boat appeared below, fighting the waves near a narrow dock. The path descended through slick rocks.
Margaret and Gabriel carried Dominic.
Clara remained behind Elias.
At the steepest section, he stopped.
“What?” she asked.
“The brakes won’t hold.”
She looked down the slope.
One mistake would send him over the cliff.
“We can transfer you.”
His entire body became rigid.
“No.”
“Elias—”
“No one carries me.”
Gunshots came closer.
A bullet struck a tree.
Clara moved in front of him and crouched until their eyes were level.
“I won’t decide for you.”
His breathing was controlled but heavy.
“You decide,” she said. “We stay here, try the slope, or transfer you to the cart.”
“The cart has no restraints.”
“We can use Gabriel’s belt.”
Elias looked at the crude vehicle carrying Dominic.
Humiliation and survival warred across his face.
Clara kept her voice steady.
“This doesn’t belong to them.”
“What?”
“The choice.”
She nodded toward the approaching gunmen.
“They don’t get to turn help into surrender. You choose it. That makes it yours.”
Something in his expression broke.
Not weakness.
The wall around it.
“Use the cart,” he said.
Gabriel returned and helped secure Dominic to Margaret’s back with a blanket sling. Then he moved toward Elias.
“Tell me where to put my hands,” he said.
Elias instructed him.
Clara supported his legs while Gabriel lifted beneath the shoulders. They transferred him into the cart.
Elias’s face went white from pain, but he did not speak.
Clara folded the chair and dragged it behind them.
They reached the dock as Rusk’s men emerged among the trees.
Captain Walsh opened fire from the boat.
Gabriel pushed the cart down the final ramp.
They boarded seconds before bullets tore through the dock railing.
The boat accelerated into black water.
Clara crouched beside Elias.
His hands shook.
She placed her palm on the deck between them.
Not touching him.
Available.
After several seconds, Elias covered her hand with his.
Only briefly.
Then he pulled away.
Captain Walsh shouted from the wheelhouse.
“We’ve got company!”
A larger vessel appeared behind them without running lights.
Its engine roared across the water.
Gabriel looked through binoculars.
“Rusk.”
The pursuing boat gained quickly.
Elias opened a storage compartment and found a flare gun.
“Walsh, head for the rocks.”
The captain glanced back. “You want to kill us?”
“Only if you miss.”
Walsh steered toward a field of jagged formations known locally as the Devil’s Teeth.
The smaller boat passed between them.
Rusk’s larger vessel followed.
At the narrowest point, Elias raised the flare gun.
Clara saw fuel drums lashed to the enemy deck.
“You can’t hit that from here.”
Elias steadied his bandaged hands.
“Then help me.”
She moved behind him.
He guided her arms, placing one hand beneath the barrel and the other around the grip.
His breath touched her cheek.
“Higher,” he said.
She raised the weapon.
“Wait.”
The waves lifted them.
For one suspended second, the fuel drums came into view.
“Now.”
Clara fired.
The flare crossed the darkness like a red star.
It struck the nearest drum.
Flames spread across the deck.
Men shouted.
Rusk’s boat turned violently and collided with a rock.
The explosion lit the entire coastline.
Captain Walsh’s vessel escaped into open water.
Everyone watched the burning wreck shrink behind them.
Then Dominic began convulsing.
Margaret held him down.
“He’s losing too much blood!”
Walsh changed course toward a private clinic Elias trusted.
Dominic’s eyes found Clara.
“The Mercy Ann,” he whispered.
“I know.”
“No. Listen.”
He grabbed her sleeve.
“Your father isn’t the only prisoner.”
“Your son?”
Dominic shook his head.
“There’s a woman.”
“What woman?”
He looked at Elias.
“Your mother.”
Elias stared at him.
“My mother died twelve years ago.”
Dominic’s grip tightened.
“No,” he whispered. “She didn’t.”
May you like
Then his eyes rolled back, and his heart stopped.
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